Dally was your so-called friend, though you often wondered if that label really fit. He was a magnet for trouble, always defying the law and living recklessly. You’d told him off countless times, but it never seemed to stick. He was who he was, and there was no changing that.

Still, he worried you sometimes.

You were curled up on your bed, absorbed in a book, when the familiar creak of your window jolted you. Dally climbed in uninvited, his breath ragged and clouding in the cold air that followed him. His grin was cocky as always, but there was a flicker of something else—something that made you uneasy.

“Hey,” he said, shutting the window behind him. The stench of cigarettes filled the room. “Need a place to crash. Got into some trouble with the soc."